


Flipped the Bird

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Finger Sucking, Light Petting, M/M, Sexuality, comedy or at least attempted, finger lickin' good lovin's (no literally)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While harvesting energon, things get a little kinky. Whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flipped the Bird

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Scavengers fic. May be a bit OOC. Oh, gosh, I hope not. orz Anyway, dedicated to [aircommanderp](http://aircommanderp.tumblr.com/), cause she was feelin' down and she is a cool broski.
> 
> Alternative title: YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THAT'S BEEN

"This planet was once a goldmine, rich with resources! You couldn't throw a dead turbofox without hitting a geyser of energon! Here, you could feast like a Prime and there'd _still_ be loads of scrap to go around!"

Misfire smiled widely, optics aglow, his arms spread open in a wide, extravagant gesture of the world around him. Then, his smile melted into something lopsided, and his gesture started to hang. "... But now," he said, and smirked at the miles of decay, dirt, and centuries-old wreckage lying out before him, "not... not so much."

Fulcrum had been listening to Misfire's rambling with a sulky look on his face. He managed to make it even more sour at his comrade's closing comment. "Yeah, I'm sure it was," he said, folding his arms, "'cause you've been here when it was in its prime, right?"

Misfire snorted. "No, but," he said, quickly added, "I heard it was a paradise! But war does that to paradises." He kicked away the piece of a building lost to time and age-old feuds. "Destroys 'em."

Fulcrum shrugged. "Gotta take the good with the bad."

"Oh, like you can talk."

"Hey," Fulcrum snorted, "at least I'm not the one who dragged us on this wild dynametal duck hunt." He waved a dismissive hand at the deserted remains. "What do you expect to find here? Nothing useful. If you brought us here so you could collect some fraggin' memorabilia--"

"Hey, I wouldn't waste what little fuel we have on slag like that, thanks," Misfire retorted. He turned to face the scorching sun. Misfire placed a foot on the rock near him, bent forward and rested his arm along his knee. Had the look of a hardened, but determined soldier. "There's energon out there, Crummy. And we're gonna find an' drink the _Pit_ out of it."

"Stop addressing me as 'Crummy'."

"'Kay, Sulkcrum."

Fulcrum cursed and shoved Misfire aside. "Let's just scan the area, realize we're wasting time, then get back to the others," he insisted. He started down the small hill first. 

Misfire rolled his optics and followed suit. "I'm tellin' you, Pinhead, we're gonna hit the jackpot."

The two went about scanning the area for energon. Nothing seemed to pop up, however. Using their eyes, scanner, even going on hands and knees. They searched for ten minutes, fifteen; at the forty-five minute mark, Fulcrum sighed and stood up straight. "There's nothing here, Misfire," he insisted curtly. "This vein's been crippled dry."

"Well, we're not lookin' hard enough," Misfire replied. He removed the shovel strapped to his back.

"Seriously? If there was energon, we would have found it by now," Fulcrum said. He pointed to the ground. "What we have is dirt, dirt, and more dirt. And if we needed dirt, yes, then we've hit the motherboardload. But we don't." He folded his arms again. "So stop being so delusional, and let's turn back. The heat is messin' with my core temperature."

"Hope is not delusion, okay."

"It is when we're crawling around on the ground like a bunch of frizz-rats."

"Come, come, my boy!" Misfire laughed, sounding like an old, gruff man. He hoisted up his shovel. "There's an adventure at every turn, no matter how hopeless it may look!" He then thrust the shovel into the ground, hard; a split second later, thick energon exploded in his face. Fulcrum widened his eyes, shocked, as Misfire cursed and stumbled back, flailing hands in his blinded face, before falling over on his ass.

Fulcrum ran over to the small geyser, bubbling out into thick pools. He cautiously touched the dark liquid, whispering, "Well, I'll be damned..."

"Too late for that," Misfire grumbled. He stood, face still smeared with energon. Nonetheless, he was beaming like the sun burning above them. He ran over to Fulcrum's side, practically shoved him over as he knelt before the puddle. "It's energon, all right," he sneered, "pure energon. Hell, I'd go so far as to say almost high grade!"

"How do you know that?"

"Did you not see a load of it shoot off in my mouth?" Misfire said then cackled and quickly generated a few cubes from subspace. "What'd I tell you, Pinhead? No, I don't need to say nothin'. Look at my face, Crummy, look at my fraggin' face. What is on my face? Could it be a slag-eating grin? Is that what it is?" He paused from loading the cubes to look back to Fulcrum, glaring down at him. "What? What is it?"

"I've decided I will no longer address anything you say if you call me that name one more time."

Misfire blinked, then smiled again. Little less shit in it, too. "Ah, well, sorry? But frag! Look at all this!" The energon was still bubbling from the ground, slowly pouring into small rivets. "If Krok could see me now! He said there was nothin' here, too. Well, screw you glitches, proved all your afts wrong."

"Do you want me to wallow in my defeat and cry and curse you to oblivion for being right?" Fulcrum hissed. "Because you're slag out of luck. For real, this time."

"Admitting defeat will do."

"Shove it."

"Defensiveness is more or less admitting defeat, right?"

Fulcrum went back to quietly collecting the energon.

Five minutes in, and most of the cubes were full. Fulcrum had immersed himself in his work, mostly to ignore the heat slowly wearing him thin. He could feel a small tension ache start in the back of his head, too. However, just before filling his last cube, he heard a slopping noise and looked aside. Misfire was sitting there, only some of his cubes filled, guzzling down scoopfuls of the energon.

"What are you doing?" Fulscrum spat. "You're suppose to be helping me!"

"I needed a break," Misfire replied after one final slurp out of his palm. "The heat was getting to me."

"Oh, and you think I'm having a picnic here?" Fulcrum snapped. He grabbed one of his comrade's empty cubes and shoved it in his hands. "We can dine when we're done. Let's at least get the energon back on the ship, okay?"

Misfire pouted. "There's enough to last us at least a week, y'know."

"Are you sure you're not mistaking your calculations with how much you've drank?"

Misfire squinted. "What are you saying?"

The heat finally reaching his nerves, Fulcrum sighed loudly and sat back. "I'm done," he said, "you can fill the rest."

"Have a drink," Misfire suggested. "Seriously, it'll cheer you right up."

"So would lying down in a cold room back on the ship."

"Seriously, have you _tried_ this stuff?" Misfire chuckled, completely ignoring Fulcrum's comment. He took a sip from one of the cubes, only to get his hand smacked by his comrade. Shrugging, Misfire put it back down and said, "Just a little won't do you no harm. Seriously. This stuff is _tee_ -rific. Go on, go on." He nudged Fulcrum in the arm, wiggling optic ridges. "I won't tell the others."

Fulcrum scowled. But, he was curious... That, and thirsty. Soon he'd have to return to the ship and refuel. Only he remembered they were running out. He glanced down at the small fountain of energon. Well, they _were_ going to drink this anyway, right? So what was the harm in starting a little early?

Fulcrum turned and eyed his comrade. Misfire gave a big grin and a thumb's up. It took him another moment of contemplation before he dipped his fingers into the dark liquid. Misfire was watching him closely as he brought them back to his mouth. Looked between the bright-eyed mech and the energon, before closing his optics and slowly, cautiously licking it from his digits.

Well, Misfire had been right. Not only about this dead rock containing energon. There was a sort of... spiciness to the liquid's taste. It was nice; added more flavor. It had been many years since Fulcrum last tasted high grade, but he figured this was probably about the same. As he tried to compare from memories, he suddenly realized he had been indulgently sucking on his finger the entire time. 

Fulcrum opened his wide optics, finger in his mouth going still; with a _pop_ he removed it and cleared his vocalizer loudly. "Yeah," he mumbled, "it's okay..."

He had expected to find Misfire spewing another hyperactive tangent at his agreement, but it was eerily silent. Fulcrum turned to look at his quiet friend. His face... Misfire looked both shocked and engrossed. As if he were watching something horribly fascinating explode. Fulcrum raised an optic ridge. "What?" he grumbled. "What are you staring at?"

After a few more seconds of silence, Misfire suddenly shouted, "You should have more!" Fulcrum winced. "I mean, come on, that's not _nearly_ enough to get you back on your pedes," the loud mech exclaimed. Before the yellow-eyed 'Con could insist otherwise, Misfire shoved his hand into the puddle (spraying them both) then held it right against Fulcrum's face. "Here! Have some more!"

Fulcrum jerked his head back. "Um." He gently pushed Misfire's hand aside, though not completely away. "I think a cube would be more, uh, efficient?"

"Shh, just!" Misfire shouted and pushed his hand back an inch in front of the mech's orange face. "Just - just have some more, okay!? You need it! You look like scrap!"

"That doesn't really--"

"Crummy!" Misfire hiccuped. He grinned widely. "I called you Crummy, so you can't respond, so that means you should just drink. Seriously, do it."

"No, that only makes me _not_ want to do it _even more_." Fulcrum growled and looked away. "Not the time _nor_ the place..."

"Here, how about this: I stop calling you Crummy if you drink the energon."

"I will, but not from your fraggin' fingers."

"Crummy, Crummy, Crummy."

"This isn't help--"

"Crummy, Crummy, Crummy."

"--your case--"

" _Crummy, Crummy, CRUMMY_!"

"Fine!" Fulcrum screeched, about to rip off his head. "If you'll just _shut up_!" He ignored Misfire's stupid grin and took the mech's hand, leaned forward, and... Well, it took him a moment, mostly due to his embarrassment. Then, optics squinted, he slowly pushed out his tongue, about to lick-- " _Grrmph_!" Except now Misfire's finger was thrust into his mouth.

As Fulcrum went to remove the finger, Misfire sat forward, practically heaved, "Just... Just go with it, okay?" 

Yellow optics widened with realization; Misfire was looking equally embarrassed, and his optics were flushed bright... _He's... He's turned on. The slaggin' pervert's turned on!_ Fulcrum thought, amazed. He grimaced as the finger began to stroke along his denta. He glanced back at his partner, who was so eager, so excited...

It was actually kind of cute.

Sort of.

Well, fine. Just get it over with. Fulcrum took Misfire's wrist, held it gently. He pulled back, giving him enough space to press his tongue to the edge of the digit, and work down its length. Pausing once to tease the seams along his knuckle for confined energon. 

Misfire shuddered visibly. "Y-Yeah, g-good."

Fulcrum continued stroking tongue back and forth, quite thoroughly along the finger. Drawing swirls at its tip and seams. Once he licked that finger dry, he went to the third, skipping the second, slipped it into his mouth knuckle deep. Misfire hissed, shivering. Fulcrum looked up with hooded optics as he massaged the finger against his tongue. A few strokes, he released the finger and proceeded to lick away the remaining half, and in between the digits.

Before Fulcrum could go to his pinky, Misfire suddenly pounced, knocking him on his back. "The heat is crazy, don't you think?" he tittered, swallowing loudly. He didn't give Fulcrum the chance to respond, just shoved his pinky back in his mouth. The yellow-eyed Decepticon grunted something before returning to work. This time, however, he let his denta scrape along the ribbed digit. Taking a small, but hard nip at the edge.

Misfire quivered again, this time his plating and armor clicking against his frame. He closed his optics, cycling hot, moist air. Fulcrum stopped to bite - softer, this time - each joint, followed by an "apologetic" lick. He paused to separate the rest of his fingers from his pinky, lapping his tongue along its length and down into the dip between.

It didn't take long to clean up the energon, however, and Fulcrum laid his head back when he was through. "There," he sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "All clea--"

Misfire placed a firm hand against Fulcrum's shoulder, pinning him down. "You skipped," he said, still shaking a little. He held out his middle finger. "You skipped this guy. Not fair."

Fulcrum rolled his optics. Guy? Yeah, okay. He pushed his hand away. "It's all dry, anyway," he replied, "dried and dripped off during--" He didn't know why it surprised him in the least that Misfire practically _punched_ the energon only to raise his now soaked middle finger back to Fulcrum's face. "You know," he said, squinting, "I've heard on some worlds, that gesture is considered offensive."

"Wow, really? I didn't know! Now I do, who cares, come on!" He pushed his finger against Fulcrum's lips.

Fulcrum couldn't help but... smile. As obnoxious as this idiot could get - which was really, really fast - his enthusiasm was infectious. 

And cute. 

Sort of. 

So Fulcrum did not leave him waiting; he opened his mouth, and, as if diffusing a bomb (Misfire laughed internally), he very carefully pushed his finger inside. Fulcrum took him to the hilt, paused, and looked up; Misfire stuttered something but began to... began to move his finger. Slow pumps, in and out of his comrade's mouth; never completely, no, just past his knuckle.

The entire time, Fulcrum held his wrist with both hands, tongue rolling against the digit. He closed his optics. Let the finger slide a few pumps down his tongue, before he guided it aside, letting Misfire pet his denta and the inside of his cheek. Moving his finger back, he closed his mouth a few inches, so his teeth could scrape along the surfaces. The hand on his shoulder slipped and fell against the ground, but Misfire continued, watching in fascination with a painful spike of energy in his spark.

Then Fulcrum stopped the finger from its pumping to just full on suck. It was almost scandalous, the way he suckled the damn thing. His tongue pleasing sensitive dermal fields, until... Until-- "Okay, frag it, this is _all_ your fault," Misfire cursed and yanked his hand free. 

Fulcrum widened his optics. "Bu--" Only now it wasn't Misfire finger in his mouth, more so his _tongue_. He made a strangled noise as Misfire smashed his mouth against his, thrusting their tongues together. It took a moment for Fulcrum to catch up, but he slowly closed his optics, returned with a much restrained passion. A pace not befitting of his friend, even though the man was groaning grateful symphonies down his damn throat.

Then, suddenly, Misfire jerked aside, taking Fulcrum with him. Fulcrum grunted as they rolled, until he was once again on his back, this time in the messy puddle of energon. Misfire grinned, licking some of the splashed liquid from his lips.

"You just... had to do that, didn't you?" Fulcrum grumbled, lifting his arms coated in the purple liquid. He was drenched. "Couldn't give a warning, at least? Of course not."

"Less talking, more--" Misfire launched back into another full on kiss. Fulcrum, again, surprised. Not for long, though; he tried to forget he was soaked in the fluid they would be drinking - well, okay, maybe not _now_ \- and wrapped his gangly arms around Misfire. Held him close, locked in a clumsy, feverish kiss.

Misfire wasn't nearly as much an expert in kissing as he was talking when it came to his mouth, but it was enough for Fulcrum to melt anyway. They'd occasionally breaking away to bite and nip each others lips, tongues meeting and pushing again before all closed mouth. Fulcrum whined and pulled Misfire closer, fingers twitching against red plating. He unconsciously thrust up to grind his chestplates to his comrade's, undulating his hips, wanting, _needing_ more, and dammit, they were suppose to be working! Then Misfire was stroking heavy, wet hands down his thighs, so ah, well! Work could wait a few more minutes.

This almost felt romantic, actually. Less dangerous, demanding, and clumsy, which it really was. Like, two lovers going hot and heavy on the sand as waves rolled over their coupled bodies. Only such an image would invoke humor, if Misfire thought about it too deeply. Then like giant clumps of seaweed and a flopping, scared fish crashing over their aforementioned coupled bodies along with the wave, a voice rang loudly from nearby.

"Hey! Hey, scrapheads, where are you!?"

Misfire was okay with continuing, but Fulcrum shoved him off and up, turned bulging optics in the direction of the voice. They couldn't see anyone, but it was Spinister.

"Guys, Krok says we need to get back on the ship! Energon's bad here!" Spinister shouted into the four winds. "Contaminated, he says! Crankcase accidentally got some in his mouth when he was diggin' - you shoulda seen it, popped up like a geyser, right in his fa-- ah anyway! And like twenty kliks later, he started hurlin'... well, pretty much everything! You don't even wanna _know_ what's comin' out his waste filters!"

Fulcrum slowly turned his head, and looked into Misfire's wide, shocked optics.

They stared at one another in complete horror for a very long time.


End file.
